The mayre came armed, a full greate pace,
With a polaxe in his hande;
Many a stronge man with hym was,
There in that stoure to stande.
90
The mayre smote at Clowdysle with his byll,
His buckeler he brast in two;
Full many a yoman with grete yll,
‘[Al]as, treason!’ they cryed for wo.
‘[Ke]pe we the gates fast,’ they bad,